


Rising Dragon

by Lithos_Maitreya



Series: Remnants [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Depression, F/F, Gen, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY), Recovery, Yang is a sad dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithos_Maitreya/pseuds/Lithos_Maitreya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yang has been thoroughly crushed. Her body's been broken, her heart re-broken. She spends her days in bed now, not because she's ill, but because she can't find a reason to get up.</p>
<p>And yet the dragon, having fallen, will rise again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This takes place in the same universe as Black Fang. They are both standalone stories, intended as meditations on the effect of Volume 3’s last few episodes on the members of RWBY. Reading one is not necessary to understand the other.  
> This is, once again, short—though not as short as Black Fang—but I really didn’t have any more to say.

_“Fires fade:_  
_The dimming of the embers;_  
_Wake from your sleep again._

_Fires fade:_  
_Wills of steel to temper;_  
_Come reignite this hopeful flame.”_

-Miracle of Sound, _Fires Fade_

* * *

 

“Yang, Ruby’s gone!” her father’s eyes were wide and wild as he flew into her room, looking stricken. “She left this, and she’s gone!” He brandished a note in her direction.

Yang looked up at him dully. “What’s it say?” she asked tiredly.

Her father fumbled with the slip of paper and began to read it aloud.

“Dad,” he read, his voice already shaking, “I’m sorry to do this, but too much has happened for us to just walk away now. Some friends and I are going to follow a lead about the invasion. I love you, and I’ll be back. Tell Yang the same. Ruby.”

He slumped into a chair and put his head into his hands. “She’s gone,” he whispered, and was silent.

Yang studied her father for a moment before looking back out the window. “She’ll be fine,” she grunted. “Ruby can take care of herself.”

Her father didn’t reply.

* * *

 

Yang had been _able_ to get up out of bed for weeks. She just never saw any particular reason to do so. When her scroll rang halfway through January, about two weeks after Ruby left, it was readily available on the left side of her bed.

She reached for it with the only hand available to her.

“Yang Xiao Long,” she said shortly.

“Yang, how have you been?” asked a familiar voice.

“Weiss,” Yang said tonelessly. “I’ve… been.”

There was a beat.

“Really, Yang,” Weiss said, a slight edge to her voice. “The Yang I knew would be up and active already. She wouldn’t let even a… missing arm stop her.”

“The arm,” Yang said flatly, “isn’t the problem. Have you talked to Ruby recently?”

“She called me when she left you,” Weiss admitted. “She’s currently out of reception—somewhere between kingdoms—but if all goes well she should reach a CCT network node in the next few days, and she’s promised to call me from there.”

“Good,” Yang said. “Let me know if she doesn’t.”

“I’ll tell her to call you,” Weiss promised.

_That wasn’t what I asked,_ Yang thought, but said nothing.

“How is Blake?” Weiss asked then. “I haven’t heard from her.”

Yang barely resisted the urge to splinter the scroll with her fingers as the phantom pain shot up her right arm and straight into her chest. “Question of the day, isn’t it?” she said, and she just _knew_ her voice was painfully raw and couldn’t bring herself to care. “Let me know if you find anything out.”

“What?” Weiss said, and her voice was openly shocked. “You mean she… hasn’t contacted you?”

“Not since she skipped town after I lost an arm trying to save her life,” Yang replied, her throat tightening painfully. “Listen, Weiss, I have to go. I have to do… things.”

“Oh, Yang,” Weiss murmured, but Yang hung up before she could continue.

For a moment, the blonde lay staring at the scroll in her hand, and the reflection of violet, damp eyes stared back at her from the screen. Then the eyes flickered red and with a roar that sounded weak and frail even to her own ears she threw the device across the room.

It splintered.

Yang stared over at the fragments for a moment.

_I have to get a new one now,_ she thought. _Resync my contacts, download my apps…_

She grunted and leaned back against her pillow.

Her eyes crept over to look outside the window again, where a black bird was watching her with red eyes from the branches of the leafless, snow-coated tree by the house.

She wondered whether it was a crow or a raven.

* * *

 

When General Ironwood came by, Yang knew about it immediately. The knock on the door was uninteresting, except insofar as it was a visitor, which was uncommon enough.

When her father opened it, his astonished exclamation of “General!” tipped her off fairly quickly as to the identity of their visitor. He was here to see her, she expected, although what about, she couldn’t say.

The two men’s voices were lowered as they spoke on the floor below. She couldn’t pick up the rest of their conversation, not that she cared.

The knock on her door was expected. “Come in,” she said.

Her father led Ironwood in. “Yang,” he said, looking slightly nervous. “This is…”

“Ironwood,” Yang said flatly, regarding the man. He looked older than she remembered, his dark hair streaked with a little more gray, as though the last few months had aged him five years. “We met when you kicked me out of the tournament for defending myself.”

Ironwood’s steel-blank expression didn’t even flicker. “Things have come to light since then,” she said. “Apparently one Emerald Sustrai, who I believe you may know, was working with the enemy. Her Semblance allows for manipulation of people’s minds.”

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “Sure it wasn’t just stress?” she asked coldly, “making me see things that weren’t there?”

Ironwood’s face remained stonily passive. “If you’re looking for an apology, Miss Xiao Long,” he said quietly, “then, at least for that, you’re not getting one. A great deal of mistakes were made during the tournament, and many of them were mine, but taking you out of the tournament in an attempt to mitigate the negative response from the people was _not_ one of them, regardless of whose fault what happened was.”

“General,” Yang’s father interjected, and his voice was slightly hard, although Yang flattered herself that it had nothing on her icy delivery. “Please, she’s injured. She really doesn’t need to be berated for things that weren’t her fault in the first place.”

Iron wood cocked an eyebrow at her father, and then looked back at her. His left hand reached out and pulled the white glove off of his right.

Yang’s eyes followed the metal fingers as they clasped into a fist, before unclasping again. “Your injury is neither unique nor insurmountable,” Ironwood said quietly. He began to undo his tie. “Indeed,” he continued as he pulled it off and began unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt to show the gleaming steel underneath, “I assure you, it could be worse.”

Yang studied the hint of a metal pectoral she couls see before her eyes sought the General’s again. “The arm isn’t the problem,” she said flatly, before turning away, looking back out the window.

A black bird was outside again. It was looking at her with something like sympathy.

“No,” Ironwood agreed from behind her, and for the first time there was a hint of emotion in his voice—a touch of the same raw hurt that had tinted her voice, days ago, in her conversation with Weiss. “No, it really isn’t, is it?”

She looked over at him again. “People died,” she said flatly. “They do that. Why are you here?”

Ironwood studied her intently. “To make you an offer,” he said. “Miss Xiao Long, you were one of Ozpin’s best and brightest students, and your team was one of the most skilled in Beacon last year. I want that team reassembled, and you’re the only one I can contact to do it.”

Yang met his eyes for a moment before speaking. “Team RWBY,” she said coldly, “is dead. If any two members cared enough about each other to stay together, maybe there would still be hope, but they _didn’t_.”

“Miss Schnee was called away,” Ironwood said, and his face had softened minutely. “She wasn’t given much choice.”

Yang laughed harshly. “You expect me to believe that there’s anyone out there who could stop Weiss from doing _exactly_ what she wants?” she asked harshly, “at least, if it’s important to her at all?”

Ironwood sighed. “She was hurt too,” he said quietly. “You know she was.”

Yang looked away, her eyes looking up and down the wall. “It was the team’s job to help with that,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “We didn’t. We were supposed to help each other, and instead we—” she swallowed. “—we scattered; thus, unkindly.”

Taiyang took a sharp breath, the only sound in a pregnant silence.

“There are four members in a team of Huntsmen,” Ironwood said softly. Yang didn’t look at him. “And there are four great Kingdoms across Remnant. Miss Xiao Long… yours isn’t the only four to have splintered.”

Now Yang looked over at him, her brow furrowed. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “Mistral is tense,” he said, “Vale is in fragments, Atlas is scrambling to restore order, and Vacuo distrusts us. Miss—Yang, the events of the past fall were not the end of anything—they were the beginning.”

Yang watched him fidget, seemingly searching for something to say. “If the four of you can’t be reconciled,” he said eventually, “I fear for the rest of us. Divided, we’re weak.”

There was a sharp crack. Yang blinked at her left hand, which had, seemingly of its own accord, come down hard on the wood of her end table. It hadn’t splintered, but a deep crack ran along the burnished board now.

As she pulled her hand away, she noticed that it was bleeding; a splinter had pricked her palm.

She shook her head and looked back up at Ironwood, her eyes narrowed. “You want to get the team back together?” she asked frostily. “Get one of the three people who ran away to do it. I’m _done_ chasing yesterday.”

* * *

 

Ironwood left without much fuss after that. He seemed thoroughly convinced; Yang would not be helping him fix his mess. Taiyang had left her to rest with a hug and gone to prepare dinner.

She had taken it in bed. It had tasted like cardboard. The she had gone to sleep.

She had no idea what had woken her, and she tried idly to figure it out as she stared listlessly at the darkness above her, the ceiling barely visible in the gloom.

It was a dark night; the moon wasn’t visible above the horizon, and the curtains were drawn on her window anyway. The house was dead silent, and nothing was stirring.

Then it became clear what had woken her, as a half-remembered voice spoke from her bedside.

“You said you’re done chasing yesterday,” Raven Branwen said blandly. “How far would you say that goes?”

For a moment, Yang decided to leap out of bed and charge the woman who had become such a tangled mess of emotion for her. The woman who hadn’t cared enough to stay, but had left to allow Ruby to exist. The woman who hadn’t cared enough to keep in touch, but had saved her life.

Then she realized that none of it seemed to matter anymore, and relaxed, and said the only thing she could.

“Fuck off.”

Then she turned her back to the voice, adjusted her pillow, and tried to go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, her guest disobeyed. “This isn’t exactly how I’d hoped you’d get over me,” she drawled.

“Leave.”

There was silence.

“No questions?” Raven asked, and there was a hint of discomfort in her voice, but Yang didn’t care enough to analyze what it might mean. “Nothing you want to know? You just want me to leave?”

Yang turned back to the woman. The mask was off, and red eyes met Yang’s violet ones openly.

“Yeah,” said Yang simply. “Bye.”

Raven didn’t move. Yang sighed.

“I’ll get Dad in here,” she threatened.

Raven looked away. “I need—” she stopped, as though she didn’t trust herself to speak. “I need to talk to you,” she said eventually.

“No,” said Yang coldly. “You _want_ to talk to me. You want something: some kind of justification, or absolution, or maybe even acceptance. Newsflash: we don’t always get what we want.”

She gestured vaguely towards the door with her stump—she was leaning on functioning arm, and couldn’t point with it. “Unless you’re looking to kill me,” Yang said flatly, “you’re getting nothing here. Scram, and let me get back to sleep.”

She lay back and closed her eyes.

There was a beat of silence, and then there was a strange hissing, sucking sound. When Yang opened her eyes to see the source of it, the woman in black and red was gone.

* * *

 

Two days later, Ruby called. “Hi Yang,” she said through the scroll in the blonde’s hand.

“Ruby,” Yang greeted. “Still alive?”

“Of course,” Ruby giggled. “It’s just Grimm.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “Only you.”

“You doing any better?” Ruby asked gently. “Set anything on fire since I left?”

Yang snorted. “Broke a few things, but that’s it,” she said. “Where are you?

“CCTS Intermediate Tower… delta?” she asked, seeming to talk to someone on her side of the receiver. “Yeah, delta. It’s on the way to Mistral.”

“You talk to Weiss?” Yang asked. “She said you promised to call you.”

“She spoke to you?” Ruby asked, sounding pleased. “I’m glad. She’s really unhappy in Atlas. How often have you talked?”

“Just the once,” Yang said. _Had to get a new scroll afterwards; couldn’t keep that up._

“You should call her back,” Ruby suggested. “I know she’d love to hear from you.”

“Maybe,” Yang said, her voice deadening against her will. “Who are you with?”

“Jaune, Ren, and Nora,” Ruby said, a sort of sad smile in her voice. “We’ve been through a lot these past few weeks.”

“It’s good to have people watching your back,” Yang agreed, and couldn’t quite keep the frost out of her voice.

Ruby didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah,” she agreed, “it really is. Hey, do you want to talk to any of them?”

“Not really,” Yang said. “It’s good to hear from you, though, Sis.”

“You too,” Ruby said. “So how have you been? Has anything new happened?”

Yang debated for a moment telling her about Ironwood, and Raven, and the details of her conversation with Weiss.

“Not really,” she said. “Same old. What about you?”

* * *

 

Weiss called again a few weeks later. It was getting on into February, and the snow had started to melt. The black bird continued to appear outside Yang’s window periodically.

By this time Yang, noticing her very body beginning to atrophy, had stopped lingering endlessly in bed. She spent a great deal of time there still, but now she walked about the house, pretending she was still a functioning human being.

As such, Yang was standing in her room, beside her bed, when the scroll rang on the end table to her right. A mere few weeks ago Yang would have instinctively reached for it with the arm that wasn’t there.

Now she neatly pirouetted and took it up in her left hand, raising it to her ear.

“Yang Xiao Long,” she said.

“Blake is in Vale,” Weiss said quickly.

Yang blinked, ignoring the phantom pain. “Say what?”

“You told me to let you know,” Weiss said, and her voice was rushed, almost afraid. “Yang, she’s in Vale and I’m… I fear for her.”

Yang cocked her head. “Blake can take care of herself,” she said coldly.

“Too well,” Weiss agreed wryly. “Yang, she’s _killing people_. The White Fang pockets in Vale have started going dark; the survivors the authorities find report a Huntress matching Blake’s description as the killer.”

“Blake?” Yang asked slowly. “ _Killing people_? Didn’t she leave the Fang because they were _too violent_?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Weiss said, and her voice was strained with worry. “I just know that I saw her before she left and she didn’t look… well. I’m afraid for her, Yang. I worry about what she’s becoming.”

There was a pause.

“And what’s it to me?” Yang heard herself say.

“What?” Weiss asked, an incredulous note to her voice.

“What’s it to me?” Yang repeated, her voice gaining a hint of heat. “When everything fell apart, we were supposed to stick together—to help each other through it. But you let your _father_ drag you away, and Blake ran, and then _Ruby_ ran too! I was the only one who tried to turn to you three, and you _let me fall!_ ”

Yang’s voice was high and hurt and painfully hot in her throat now. “Blake doubted me during the tournament,” she vented, “and then when I needed her—needed _all of you_ —you let me down! Ruby was unconscious, and Blake ran, and you didn’t stay! So what’s it to me if Blake’s in trouble now? _So was I!_ ”

There was a pause.

“Yang,” Weiss said, and her voice was hoarse, as if she was speaking through tears. “Don’t you see I felt the same way?”

Yang hissed. “ _You didn’t lose an arm!_ ”

“No,” Weiss agreed, her voice catching on a sob, “but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt—watching everything fall apart, and knowing we couldn’t do anything. But you and Ruby were _both_ unconscious, and, yes, Blake ran. I tried to turn to you too, and no one was there to catch me.”

Yang’s retort died in her throat. For a moment, all she could hear was Weiss’ muffled weeping on the other side of the line.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“So am I,” said Weiss, swallowing a sob, clearly trying to regain her composure. “I should have waited.”

“I shouldn’t have expected you to,” Yang replied with a shake of her head. “Look, I—”

She stopped, unsure of how to continue.

“Yang,” Weiss said, and her voice was mostly composed again. “Blake needs us.”

“She wasn’t there for me,” Yang whispered.

“I’m sure she regrets that,” Weiss said firmly. “I have to believe that, or I never knew her at all.”

There was another silence.

“I think I’ll be taking a trip to Atlas soon,” Yang said quietly. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Why in Remnant would you come here?” Weiss asked, sounding horrified. “It’s awful! It snows through April!”

Yang’s lips twisted into a smile. “Never would have guessed you don’t like the snow,” she said wryly.

“I don’t mind snow,” Weiss corrected, “but too much of a good thing can be unpleasant.”

“That why you kept my sister at arm’s length?” Yang teased.

“You sister is a dunce,” Weiss said, and Yang was sure she was blushing. “And so are you. _Why_ are you coming to Atlas?”

“Not sure I am yet,” Yang admitted. “I have to make a call, check on something.”

“Well, let me know if you are,” Weiss said. “I’ll introduce you to Winter—you never met her, did you?”

“Nope,” Yang said, grinning wickedly. “Be nice to swap stories about our little sisters.”

Weiss groaned. “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll keep you as far from her as possible.”

Yang snorted. “I’m going to go make that call now,” she said. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes, Weiss.”

“Goodbye, Yang.”

Yang pulled the scroll from her ear and hung up. She took a moment to look out the window. The black bird was out there again.

She gave it a smile as she used her scroll’s built-in search engine to find the number, punched it in, and waited for someone to pick up.

“General Ironwood’s office,” said a crisp, female voice on the other end. “Can I help you?”

Yang grinned. “The name’s Yang Xiao Long,” she said. “General Ironwood approached me with an offer about a month back. I was wondering if it was still open.”

* * *

 

_“Winding round,_  
_Over and over again,_  
_Fated to wander._

_Strike me down,_  
_Over and over again,_  
_To come back stronger.”_

-Miracle of Sound, _Forever Flame_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yang’s few moments of screentime in the closing of 3.12 are incredibly powerful. With only a few lines and looks, she conveys how utterly crushed she is. Not only has she been damaged physically, in a way most of us can’t even imagine, she’s been betrayed by the people she loves. Again.  
> And yet, you can’t keep the rising dragon down forever.


End file.
